At first Neale was flirted with and importuned.  Then he was scorned.  Then he was let alone.  Finally, as time went on, always courteous, even considerate of the women who happened in his way, but blind and cold to the meaning of their looks and words, he was at last respected and admired.

There was always a game in the big gambling-place, and in fact the greatest stakes were played for by gamblers like Hough, pitted against each other.  But most of the time was reserved for the fleecing of the builders of the U. P. R., the wage-earners whose gold was the universal lure and the magnet.  Neale won money in those games in which he played with Place Hough.  His winnings he scattered or lost in games where he was outpointed or cheated.

One day a number of Eastern capitalists visited Benton.  The fame of the town drew crowds of the curious and greedy.  And many of these transient visitors wanted to have their fling at the gambling-hells and dancing-halls.  There was a contagion in the wildness that affected even the selfish.  It would be something to remember and boast of when Benton with its wild life should be a thing of the past.

Place Hough met old acquaintances among some St. Louis visitors, who were out to see the road and Benton, and perhaps to find investments; and he assured them blandly that their visit would not be memorable unless he relieved them of their surplus cash.  So a game with big stakes was begun.  Neale, with Hough and five of the visitors, made up the table.

Eastern visitors worked upon Neale’s mood, but he did not betray it.  He was always afraid he would come face to face with some of the directors, whom he did not care to meet in such surroundings.  And so, while gambling, he seldom looked up from his cards.  The crowd came and went, but he never saw it.

This big game attracted watchers.  The visitors were noisy; they drank a good deal; they lost with an equanimity that excited interest, even in Benton.  The luck for Neale seesawed back and forth.  Then he lost steadily until he had to borrow from Hough.

About this time Beauty Stanton, with Ruby and another woman, entered the room, and were at once attracted by the game, to the evident pleasure of the visitors.  And then, unexpectedly, Larry Red King stalked in and lounged forward, cool, easy, careless, his cigarette half smoked, his blue eyes keen.

“Hey! is that him?” whispered one of the visitors, indicating Larry.

“That’s Red,” replied Hough.  “I hope he’s not looking for one of you gentlemen.”

They laughed, but not spontaneously.

“I’ve seen his like in Dodge City,” said one.

“Ask him to sit in the game,” said another.

“No.  Red’s a card-sharp,” replied Hough.  “And I’d hate to see him catch one of you pulling a crooked deal.”

They lapsed back into the intricacies and fascination of poker.

Neale, however, found the game unable to hold his undivided attention.  Larry was there, looking and watching, and he made Neale’s blood run cold.  The girl Ruby stood close at hand, with her half-closed eyes, mysterious and sweet, upon him, and Beauty Stanton came up behind him.